


From Time to Time

by Trixeroli



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Gen, description of panic attack, i might write more about them in the future, inspired by the discord, set in 2060
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trixeroli/pseuds/Trixeroli
Summary: Kennedy Moore, the first openly non-binary First Child, is moving into Alex Claremont-Diaz's old room- the East Bedroom.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	From Time to Time

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another fic inspired by the discord. Thank yall.

“Almost every queer person knows their names- Alexander Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor. The First Son of the United States and the Prince of England who, after being cruelly outed in a giant scandal, lived happily ever after together. Well, today I’m lucky enough to move into Alex’s old room- the East Bedroom. Hopefully, I’ll be able to live up to his legacy as your First Child of the United States.”

With a smile, Kennedy Moore posted the picture of their new bedroom to Instagram, quickly turning off their phone before the flood of likes and comments came and jumping backwards onto the bed. They glanced around the room, trying to imagine a young Alex Claremont-Diaz walking around. 

It had been renovated for Kennedy, the walls a nice cream color and the bed swathed in a deep red. Their fancier clothes hung neatly in the closet and various papers were stacked on an oak desk. There was a fireplace on the far wall that they didn’t quite feel brave enough to light and a small table under the frosted window. Boxes and bags of stuff were stacked in a corner, but they resolutely ignored the pile. 

The room was still alien to Kennedy, not quite home yet. Although, they supposed, it would be home for at least the next four years. They had done what they could as a newly 18-year-old to help their father get elected, and it worked- their father won with a landslide. Kennedy recalled Alex Claremont-Diaz talking about Texas flipping blue for the first time in 44 years back in 2020, and their chest swelled with pride at how far the country had come- Texas was regularly blue these days. 

Lost in thought, they almost fell off the bed at the knocking. Opening their door revealed Danny, their brother, with his arm raised. He pushed past Kennedy despite their protests, strolling around the room with a scrutinizing eye. 

“Get out of here, you pest.” Kennedy jabbed their thumb at the hallway, holding the door open. Danny ignored them. 

“It’s not very personalized. You should make it more personalized. We’re gonna be here for at least four years, you know. Unless Dad does something to get impeached. Which I don’t think he will. What were we talking about? Oh, yeah- your room. I know for a fact red isn’t your favorite color.” Danny was right, of course, but Kennedy would never admit it. Red was a good color for the oldest First Child.

“Get off my bed, you ass. And don’t you dare spill that in my room, or you’re gonna pay.” They gestured at the bottle of soda Danny had seemingly produced from nowhere. ”As for my room… well, we just moved in. I need some time to decorate. Besides, what’re you giving me shit for? I’m sure your bedroom looks the same as mine.” Danny shook his head, and Kennedy raised their eyebrows. 

“Did you really get everything unpacked? We’ve only been here one day!”

“Yep!” Danny grinned, popping the P. “I busted my ass. And I asked Asher for help.” Asher Woodward, the Vice President’s youngest kid, and only son. The four of them- Kennedy, Danny, Asher, and his older sister Bianca- had become close friends on the campaign trail, having spent countless late nights and early mornings together brainstorming ways to win. 

“Hey, that’s cheating! Asher and Bianca have their own unpacking to do. Don’t be mad just because you didn’t think of it.”

“Whatever, kid. Just get out of my room.” Kennedy grabbed Danny’s arm and tugged. He slid off their bed, hands up in mock surrender, and left the room. 

Suddenly tired, Kennedy slumped into the desk chair. They had always struggled with bouts of fatigue, but it had gotten worse when their dad announced his run for president. Usually they would take caffeine pills, but they’d run out last night and hadn’t gotten more. Groaning, Kennedy collapsed on their bed. Before they knew it, they were asleep.

***

Kennedy had known it would be a bad day when they woke up. Their head had been throbbing, but all they could do was take some Tylenol and try to ride out an important day of being the First Child of the United States. They’d tried to power through meetings and classes, but it just wore them down. A snide comment muttered under someone’s breath was their breaking point. 

Kennedy’s throat closed, and it felt like someone had punched them in the gut. Tears threatened to roll down their cheeks. They managed to get up the stairs to their floor before breaking down. Clumsily, they grasped at the doorknob and yanked it open, slamming it shut behind them. 

_ I can’t do this. I can’t There’s no way I can do this for another four years. There’s no fucking way. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! _

Thoughts raced through Kennedy’s head as tears streamed down their face. Distantly, they noted that their bedroom door was cold against their back. Through blurry vision, they scan the room, their mind shouting to hide. Hide from the stress, from the hatred, from the X. One shape came into view- the open rectangle of the closet. The shape was comforting, familiar, not alien like the rest of the room. 

Kennedy scrambled for cover, almost diving into the closet. The hardwood floor is unyielding against their knees and palms, grounding them. They turn over and sit with their back against the wall, hunched over and hugging their knees. The position is familiar- they used to do the same thing as a kid. In the safety of the closet, Kennedy begins their breathing exercises. In through the nose, slowly out through the mouth, repeat. Their heart rate starts to slow to a normal rate- nothing can get them in the closet. 

Their breathing and tears slow, and then finally stop. Kennedy wipes their eyes, but doesn’t move from their spot. Slowly but surely, they unclasp their hands and let their legs slide out, away from their chest. 

As they settled their hands on either side of themselves, there was a creak, and the board under their left hand shifted out of place. Kennedy picked it up, fully intending to put it back properly, but an envelope underneath caught their eye. On the front, it read  _ FUTURE LGBT FIRST KIDS _ . Turning it over in their hands, they began to read.

_ 01/19/2025 _

_ Dear whoever finds this letter, _

_ My name is Alex Claremont-Diaz. I’m the first publicly out and proud bisexual FSOTUS, and I’m here to give you advice. Being LGBT and a First Kid is stressful, especially when you’re forcibly outed right before the election, and especially when your boyfriend is the Prince of Wales. But I hope that it will be easier for you than it was for me. I hope that you don’t feel the need to hide your identity for the sake of our current president. I hope that you can be proud about who you are- that everyone uses your correct name and pronouns, and doesn’t blink at whoever you like. If you’re not able to be out, for any reason, let me say this- eventually, you will. You will get to a point in your life when you can unapologetically be yourself. I promise you. Please don’t give up, no matter what. Things will get better. Just hang in there.  _

_ I wish you all the best. _

_ Yours, Alex Claremont-Diaz. _

_ PS. Henry says hello and good luck, and seconds everything in this letter. _

***

Kennedy took the old letter from Alex Claremont-Diaz out of their desk drawer. It had resided there for eight years, through both of President Moore’s terms. Kennedy had taken it out and read it countless times over the years when they needed it most. And now, it would be going back under the loose board in the closet for the next person who needs it. 

Kennedy folded the letter along the creases that no longer existed, the paper worn from being handled. Then they folded another piece of paper, containing a letter of their own. Over the past month, Kennedy had written and rewritten it multiple times. There was no time now to fix anything- the Moore family would be moving out of the White House that afternoon. 

Smiling, they placed the papers under the floor of the closet and replaced the board. Hopefully, the letters would help someone else as much as Alex’s letter had helped Kennedy.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr @superpaperclip!


End file.
